"Ilsa, you are going to help me, aren't you?" Anna asked. "We have to take care of Flo and J.D. They're like children in so many ways."
* * *
"No, Mr. Canaro, I'm not going to sell any of my sheep. I'm in the market to buy more, not to sell what I have. When you have some to sell me, please call again."
Flo hung up the phone, a bit bemused.
Relieved of domestic and farm responsibilities by the Sprug and Schmidt clans, she had turned her energies toward acquiring more sheep and trying to find the ram she needed. Some of the local 4H members had been willing to sell their project sheep.
"I just wish they'd take money," Flo muttered. "That little Rambouillet ewe cost me a whole three pound can of coffee. And J.D. just snickered, and said I should have expected a small town to know what I had stashed away. Smart aleck."
Johan came in grinning. "Flo, another sheep coming. I think it is another wether."
"You know the policy, Johan. We'll buy it for its wool, but a wether can't breed. Not more than one pound of coffee for a wether, and only if we can use the wool. If it's another Suffolk or Hampshire, we don't need it. When I think of the wool genes going to waste in the wethers we've bought, I could just bang my head against a wall."
"Ja, is just easier for Kinder to raise wether or ewe. Rams, they are harder to handle. But, we have some ewes, you know. They will work in program. Little rams, they put on weight. Maybe only one year with Brillo." Johan went out again to deal with whatever teenager had shown up.
Flo was happy to leave the bargaining to Johan. She knew she was too softhearted with the kids. They were all tired from the walk and Flo hated to disappoint them. She bought any ewe, regardless of breed, intending to improve the wool quality in the coming generations. "Those Suffolks and Hampshires were always intended for meat. The kids knew they shouldn't make pets of them and get too attached." Flo held herself firmly in place. "If I go out there, the teary eyes will get to me again. I'll just stay here till it's over."
Flo hadn't been very successful at becoming a hard-hearted businesswoman. It took a lot of effort to turn someone down. She was learning, though, and the coffee stash had come in handy. As supplies had dwindled, coffee was more and more in demand. Flo saw no reason not to use it as a trade item. Nor the rest of the little luxuries stashed in her freezer. These days, a bag of chocolate chips was worth its weight in gold. It was small things, like chocolate chips, candy bars, and cheese puffs, that people missed most.
Herr Oswald Ulman had risen to new heights in his shouting. Farley Utt was trying to do the right thing here. He knew this wasn't going to be easy, but Maggie was twenty and he loved her. It wasn't the end of the world to marry a little sooner than they'd planned. If the old man would just stop the hollering, maybe they could get this settled.
With a last, thundering shout, Herr Ulman slammed out of the door. Maggie, in tears, turned to Farley.
"What's wrong, Maggie? He didn't call you any bad names, did he?" Farley asked, worried sick. "Did you make him understand? And I don't understand why he keeps calling me an Arminian. I've told him a dozen times that I'm an American and a Methodist. It's not like I'm an atheist or something."
"Papa says that all Americans are too easy with religion. They do not believe as he does. He does not like this. He will not listen and he will not understand. He says I must leave, now, and I must never come back. He says you will be killed in the war and I must not be a beggar. I am allowed to pack my things. We must leave, soon."
"Do you mean he's disowned you?" Farley was outraged at what he felt was an overreaction. "Why the old jerk, I ought to . . ."
"No, mein Farley, it will do no good. We will go. Do you still want me, now I am not a woman of wealth?" Maggie looked up at Farley, concern in her eyes.
"Of course, I still want you. No matter what, I'll always want you. We'll go to Grantville and find our own place. Mom and Dad will be happy for us, you'll see. We'll get by, and when the war is over I'll find another way to make a living. We don't need your father, or his property. I never wanted to farm, anyhow."
"Good," said Margaretha Ulman, soon to be Maggie Utt. "We must hurry. Papa will be back with the sheep soon."
As Maggie turned away, Farley thought, panicked, Sheep! What sheep?
An hour or so later, as he struggled to keep the stubborn, stupid, ornery sheep headed in the right direction, Farley decided the old man had done it on purpose, just so he could laugh at him. They'd show him. Somehow, all seven of these rotten, stinking animals were going to make it to Grantville. Maggie and he were going to get married, and someday that old coot would regret this. Farley just really dreaded what the lieutenant was going to say when he saw the sheep.